


The StriLonde Siblings Christmas Album (Exclusive 45 RPM Press Edition)

by godtiermeme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, F/F, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-23 05:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godtiermeme/pseuds/godtiermeme
Summary: From the iconic musical duo, who brought you hits such as “Stripping in the Rain” and “Loose Feet” comes a long-awaited Christmas album! (Okay, fine, it's a two-song single, and both songs are covers.) An experiment in musical storytelling, featuring the violin stylings of Ms. Rose Lalonde and the sick beats of her twin brother, Dave Strider.(That's really just a flavor text type of summary. For a more helpful summary: Two song-inspired one-shots based around Christmas songs.)
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The StriLonde Siblings Christmas Album (Exclusive 45 RPM Press Edition)

**Author's Note:**

> formatting is experimental and whatever, but the whole thing is just standard issue davekat and rosemary. wheehoo. [click here for a link to the song for this chapter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9jbdgZidu8), originally by The Pogues.

[[begin record](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOY8pXNu-ew)]

**13 December, five years ago... **

Two teenagers, both somewhat unwilling participants, sit at opposite ends of a large, round, elaborately decorated table; surrounding them are many other individuals of a similar age, most of them strangers. A sparkling Christmas tree towers above the skyline of the city, its lights shining like stars against the night. Millions of bulbs are strung about, floating fairies in the freezing darkness, which provide enough light to ensure even the drunkest patrons of this festive Skaia City tradition won't trip over themselves. The band is playing away, as they have been for the past two hours, belting out traditional Christmas songs.

At some point, one of the teens rises from his seat. He's a short, slightly chubby young man, with skin the color of mahogany. His perpetually messy black hair hangs in his face, naturally curling near the ends. His brows are furrowed, and, when he turns, his prominently arched nose casts a striking profile against the twinkling lights. According to the sticker on his black turtleneck sweater, his name is Karkat Vantas. He is seventeen.

“What, exactly, is the fucking point of the city forcing the seniors of Salamancer Memorial High School to put on the annual Christmas party, anyhow?” the teen grumbles. He drops into a new seat, one beside a person who is neither a stranger nor a friend. An acquaintance might be a good way to describe the relationship.

In return, the other boy—tall, pale, slender, and surrounded by a distinct aura of cockiness—shrugs. He takes a swig from a bottle that, while shaped like Coca-Cola, smells strongly of booze. “You're really going to ask me? I ducked out of this whole dipshit parade by playing the albinism card, Vantas.” He snickers, and his breath rises into the air as wisps of condensation. “Why're you over here, anyhow? Weren't you having enough fun gossiping about me with your friends?”

“And you’re clearly engaged in a mind-boningly fantastic discussion with your own nonexistent circle of friends. I’m absolutely humbled that you’d deign to make small talk with me,” shoot’s back Karkat. He folds his arms across his chest and furrows his brows. “And I know you ducked out of it, stupid. I’m class president.”

“I know that.” From Dave, an indifferent shrug.

As the heat lamps around the area flicker to life, the band begins to play slower songs. The lead singer calls for dancers.

“Oh. Another chance to exhibit my eternal loneliness, it seems,” Karkat cheers, facetiously.

“Hey, if you want to dance, you can just ask.” Dave is only half-joking, and, despite what his childhood upbringing, he’s not exactly upset when the offer is accepted.

“Whatever. Just don’t be your usual brand of douchebag out there.”

[[record scratch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXnXBMkC7KY)]  
there was a light  
was there before?  
but in the darkness of this night  
it now means more

**24 December, Present day...**

“Look, you fucking twit, I don’t have time for your goddamned bullshit. I’d like to haul my ass right on home, so I can spend my Christmas as it should be: alone, with my cat, in front of the fireplace. So, do me a favor and go Fuck yourself, Pendleton.” With a brusque huff, a now twenty-something-year-old Karkat hangs up on his work colleague. He shakes his head, sending a few flakes of loose snow flying in the process. When he turns, hoping to catch the bus, he finds himself facing the vehicle’s receding rear.

“FUCK!” He scrambles, but ultimately decides to cease his fruitless chase after only a few steps. He’s been in the city long enough to know when the next bus will come, so he hunkers down in the glass-walled sitting area for the thirty-something minute wait. (Which is, of course, an optimistic estimate. This is an American city; a bus arriving on time is on par with everyone obeying the ‘no left turn’ sign.)

As he sits down, an oddly familiar voice catches his attention.

“Shit on a tit. Missed it again.” Another man jogs up to the stop. He’s tall, pale, and a bit lanky. Obnoxious shades cover his eyes, and a deep southern twang permeates his words. When he realizes who he’s talking to, he freezes. His hand instinctively reaches up, and long fingers tangle themselves in snow-dusted blond hair. “Hey. Uh. Long time no see, huh?”

“And it was an amazing, peaceful stretch of time, too.” Karkat refuses to risk a glance in Dave’s direction. Their romance was one of wild, youthful stupidity. In truth, part of him still loves Dave, but he doesn’t exactly want to admit that. Instead, he digs his heels in, making his stance firm and clear. “Why don’t you just sit down, stick your stupid nose into your phone, and we can pretend to be absolute strangers?”

What follows is a brief moment of hesitation. Dave's mouth opens, as if to say something, only to slowly shut. He sighs, takes out his phone, and slowly settles into the spot on the opposite side of the bench from Karkat.

[[record scratch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4EqHNktfDJ4)]  
one by one distractions fade from view  
the only reason i have left is you

**16 December, five years ago...**

“You're an idiot,” chides Karkat, standing beneath the city's oversized Christmas tree. He peeks around, trying to peer through the thick branches of the evergreen. “You lost your shades _in the goddamned tree_? How do you even do that?” There's a brief moment of silence, immediately followed by a harsh snort of laughter. “And it took you three days to realize it?”

“Look, I haven't been paying a lot of attention to what's on my face lately,” Dave whines in reply. “I've been a little busy dodging college applications.”

“You're not going to college?”

“Nah. I'm gonna go straight into music. Dip my toes into that world of wild tit-wrenching bullshit, y'know? Probably not.” Dave shrugs. There's a series of snaps as he suddenly bounds out of the curtain of pine needles, triumphantly clutching his shades in his hands. “There. Found them.”

“Wonderful. Let's get the fuck out of here before anyone catches up ruining the town Christmas tree.” Karkat buries his hands in his pockets. He scuffs the toe of his black boot against the ground, uprooting small clumps of iced-together slush from the recent snowfall. “I've applied to Skaia University, and they let me in.”

Before he's slipped his shades back on, Dave blinks. He cocks his head a bit to the side and, in a show of his usual lack of tact, he comments, “Great. That's cool.”

“That's all you have to say about it?” scoffs Karkat. “I tell you that I've been accepted to one of the best colleges in the area, and all your shriveled, traumatically battered brain can think of is fucking ‘cool’!?”

From Dave, a shrug. “_Really_ cool?”

Karkat blinks. “That’s all you have to say about it?” A low growl rises from his throat. “You’re clueless! I’ve never met anyone quite as fucking emotionally stunted as you, Strider. If your IQ was equal to your emotional intelligence, I’m sure I’d be speaking to a cracked rock.”

[record scratch]  
Sinatra was swinging,  
All the drunks they were singing  
We kissed on a corner  
And danced through the night.

**24 December, present day...**

“Hey... uh, Karkat?” Dave poses the comment as a question, though it’s obviously a ploy to gain attention. He doesn’t receive an answer, of course, but he stubbornly keeps forging ahead. “Look, I know this is going to sound dumb as fuck, right, but I... You know what? Fuck it. I still like you, dude. Like, my dumb head hits the pillow and BAM! My brain is just full gear Vantastown, and I ain’t really sure why. I mean. I know we broke up. And, really, we never actually qualified as any sort of item, but... uh...”

“You’ve changed since we last met,” Karkat responds without looking at the subject of his words. “I guess it’s nice to know. I suppose I never really forgot about you, either, but maybe for different reasons. More along the lines of, ‘Wow! That bastard is still alive!? Huh!’ But I do appreciate your honesty.”

“Well, I guess that’s a start.” There’s a pause, during which Dave rolls his shoulders. He watches his own breath, tracing the winding path the condensation takes as it dissipates into the cold winter air. “Where’re you heading?”

“Home, you literal dipstick. I’m going home. It’s Christmas Eve. What, you’re not?”

“I moved to the east coast after my brother died.” A nonplussed shrug punctuated this statement. “I live with Rose. We’re touring now, so we’ll be heading back to the hotel room. We split somewhere around fifth street, and I ended up here. No biggie.” For no real reason, Dave takes out his wallet. He pokes around inside of it for a few minutes, until he finds what he’s looking for.

A business card, emblazoned with a band logo for The StriLonde Twins, is passed over. As this happens, Karkat catches a glimpse of an old photo, one of him and Dave, tucked in a photo slot of the other man’s wallet. At the same time, he takes the card. He holds it carefully, studying the glossy print. “So, you achieved your damned dream. Congrats for you.”

Dave cocks his head to the side; he raises a brow. “What? And you didn’t? You wanted to be a teacher, right?”

“And, yet, I’m doing little more than office busy work.” There’s an edge to Karkat’s voice, a thick, palpable sense of disappointment. “Whatever. Uh...” He rubs the back of his neck.

“Remember our first date?” Dave blurts, trying desperately to fill the void of awkward, unyielding silence. “I took you to Red Robin, and—”

To the surprise of both men present, Karkat smiles. “I had to remind you that I don’t eat any cow products, you blithering fool. I ate a goddamned veggie burger, which was actually surprisingly well done, but it sure as fuck wasn’t a very romantic meal.”

“Beats Rose. She and Kanaya both got food poisoning from their first date. And I warned them, too. Salty Spittoon is a craphole. You walk into that place, you’ll slip on a lawsuit on your first step in.”

“I didn’t see you at their wedding. And you're Rose’s goddamned twin brother. What, were you too busy jerking off your own over-inflated ego?”

Dave frowns. He redirects his gaze, opting to stare at a crow on the streetlamp. “Uh... I didn’t come because I was afraid of running into you, actually. I uh... It’s a long story.”

Karkat checks his watch. “Well, You’ve got twenty minutes.”

“Look, I know I should've called or texted or done _something_,” Dave begins. His words spill out without grace or rhythm, a rapid-fire stream of consciousness, which flows from his lips with a disconnect that, from experience, Karkat recognizes as investment. “It was a real douchebag thing for me to do, you know? I kissed you on Christmas, knowing full well that my dumb ass was getting dragged out of the city by my dumbass bastard of a guardian the next day. And I still did it. And I'm sorry.”

Karkat responds with firmly folded arms and pursed lips. He says nothing, but raises a brow. _‘Go on,’_ he silently urges, _‘Make the best excuse you can.’_

“Listen, dude. Karkat.”

Hearing his first name from Dave startles Karkat. It's not exactly a sense of formality that drives the other man's habitual use of last names; in fact, it's more than likely a need to remove himself from others.

Perhaps Dave doesn't notice this slight reaction, or perhaps he's too deeply caught in his own thoughts. Whatever the reason is, it doesn't change the fact that he keeps talking. “I was young, stupid, and afraid of myself. And none of those things are remotely decent excuses for what I did. Like, if there's a sliding scale for excuses, where the lowest rank is ‘I can't come because I'm dead’, I'm not even on the scale. That's how bad all of this bullshit is. But the point I'm trying to make here is that I really do...” A pause. A hoarse breath. “I really loved you, Karkat,” Dave says. His words are clipped and abrupt, making it painfully obvious how unfamiliar he is with the phrase. “And I still do. So... uh...”

Before Dave can continue, Karkat interjects. To be quite honest, he's not exactly sure why he does it. Is it the fatigue from a long day of work? The odd sense of peace he feels at the sight of the beginnings of soft, sporadic snowflakes? That it's Christmas Eve? Really, the reason doesn't matter; what matters is the action. And, from Karkat, comes a response he'd never thought he'd say. “If you're not too busy tonight, why don't you come back to my place? It's not much. Just some dumb, eye-chafing hell of an apartment. But, if it helps, you can meet my cat.”

“You have a cat?” Dave doesn't look at Karkat as he replies, a sure sign of nerves. Nonetheless, he offers a small smile. “What's the name?”

“Phoebe.” A short pause, followed by a sigh. “The bus is going to be coming soon. So, what? You want to come over?”

The smile on Dave's face breaks into a grin. He nods eagerly. “Yeah. That sounds chill as fuck.”

“Ah. So you still haven't outgrown that whole ‘open your mouth and let a steaming stream of jejune grubshit come pouring out’.” A hearty laugh punctuates the commentary. When he extends his hand, expecting a handshake, he ends up being pulled into a tight hug. It's not an unpleasant experience.

“Good to see you again, dude.”

Returning the embrace, Karkat finds himself smiling, too. “Honestly? It's nice to see you, too, you blithering idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for my absence. shit's been crazy lately, but i'm still working and thinking about my other fics. this is really just a sort of "getting back into writing" exercise two-shot. not sure when the rose and kanaya chapter will be up. hope you enjoy it, tho. as usual, thanks for reading and if you see any typos or whatever please let me know!


End file.
